Fathers
by Aksannyi
Summary: Ziva’s father reacts to her resignation from Mossad, and Tony and Ziva discuss their fathers. Tiva. Follows "The Inside Man." Second and final chapter added, after "Flesh and Blood." Tony's father's visit opens up a new discussion.
1. Chapter 1: Disowned

Notes: Not sure where this one came from, but sometimes ideas just come to me and beg to be written.

Summary: Ziva's father reacts to her resignation from Mossad, and Tony and Ziva discuss their paternal relatives. Tiva, of course, though it's light this time around. Season seven spoilers, up through the end of _The Inside Man_.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be. Don't sue, trust me, I have nothing you'd want, except maybe a kidney. But probably not even that.

**Fathers**

"After everything you put me through, after all the hell I lived and the fact that you did _nothing _to stop it, I can't believe that you would still expect my loyalty," Ziva spat out at her father, looking at his face in MTAC as she cut her final ties to her former employer and father, Eli David.

"Ziva..." the Director of Mossad started, then stopped, pursing his lips together.

"Don't. Everything I wrote to you in that e-mail was the truth. I am tired of the lies and the manipulation. My resignation is final." She motioned for the feed to be cut, as she did not wish for this conversation to continue any longer. She'd made her decision, and her father would have to learn to accept it. _Or he could go to hell! _she thought.

"You okay?" Tony asked her, and she nodded. He left it at that. Sometimes it was best.

They headed back to their desks, the bullpen eerily dark since they were the only two people still working that evening. Ziva had insisted on staying late to have the conversation with her father, who had just arrived at work. 8:23 AM in Tel Aviv, 2:23 AM in DC.

Tony sat down and began to type, determined to finish the paperwork he'd neglected in order to help Ziva out in MTAC. Ziva had asked him to stay with her and help with the feed, so instead of taking his work home with him, he'd opted to stay at work to do it until it was time to talk with Director David.

Ziva also sat down at her desk, wanting to check her e-mail before leaving, and also subconsciously wanting comfort from her partner.

"I thought you finished all your work," Tony murmured, wondering why she wasn't going home. She had to be tired, not necessarily physically tired, but emotionally. Director David was pretty exhausting to deal with, as he'd found out several months ago.

"I did. I would like to check a few things before I leave," she replied, and opened up her e-mail. Not surprisingly, there was already an e-mail from her father waiting in her inbox. She sighed, which caused Tony to look up from his work momentarily, but he returned to it without a word.

"_Ziva," _it read, _"You have defied me for the last time. From today forward, I no longer have a daughter. I told you to choose your loyalties, so be it."_

"Good," she said out loud.

"Huh?" came the response from across the room.

"It took less than five minutes for my father to disown me after I cut him off," she said nonchalantly. Tony didn't respond, so she continued, "He wishes for me to believe that he cared for me as a daughter, and not just some pawn."

"And?"

"And I know better. I think I have always known that I would amount to nothing in his eyes without being Mossad." She stopped talking for a moment, and he pulled his chair over to her desk, bringing his phone with him as she spoke.

She was startled by the tinny voice of Tony's cell phone, on speaker, instructing, _"To listen to your saved messages, press four," _and seeing him press the button on his phone. She looked at him quizzically, but he said nothing, instead letting the speaker on the phone do the talking.

"_Anthony you are a worthless waste of space, a disappointment if I ever saw one. I __**have**__ no son. Good for nothing, useless, waste of a man. After all I've done for you, to throw it in my face. Good riddance."_ She heard a click, then the phone beeped, and the voicemail's voice was back, declaring that was the end of the message. Her eyes widened as she turned her head to face him while he closed his phone.

He shrugged, and said, "I know how you feel. If that helps." She looked at him incredulously.

"Why have you never-"

"Deleted that message?"

"Yes," was the response.

"So that if I ever got to thinking that I wished my father had been there for me, for _anything_, I could play this and remember how much better off I am without him," Tony responded. Ziva could see that behind his tough exterior, there was a tiny shred pain flashing in his eyes.

A pain she was beginning to understand. She'd accepted her father's dismissal of her, but she didn't have to like it. "Second question," she started,

"Why have I never told you that my father disowned me?"

"In addition to the fact that you are apparently psychic," she joked, "yes."

"It never came up."

"So your father never contacts you?"

"No."

"You've never tried to contact him?"

"No. There's no point. I tried, the first few months after he sent that message, but he would have nothing to do with me. So I gave up," he responded.

"Why?"

"I joined the police force. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps." He shrugged. "I did what made me happy, he couldn't deal with that."

"Tony, I had no idea," Ziva said sympathetically.

"I'm over it," he said, shrugging again, "It's been years now. But what about you?"

"I pretty much lost all respect I had for him over the past few months. When we went to Tel Aviv, I felt my trust of him start to dwindle, but I still wanted to believe that he was human, that he was a _father. _But every time something else happened, I lost more and more trust in him, until I realized he would not be sending a rescue team after me.

"By the time you, Gibbs, and McGee finally came, I'd accepted that I was going to die. But when I saw your face in front of me after all that time, I knew. My father did not care about me, not even a fraction of what this team does."

"Ziva," he said, and put his arm around her, pulling her close to him and resting his chin on top of her head.

"I'd pushed my doubts about Eli out of my mind until you came for me, realizing once I saw your face that he truly had no intention of coming for me." She wasn't crying, he noticed, but she still needed comforting. He put his other arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Well, Ziva, I can't say that I know _exactly_ how it feels to be you: to not have your father come to your rescue and to be used as a toy in some silly game, but as another disownee-" he cracked a smile at his own DiNozzoism- "I can assure you that it gets easier with some time."

"I am fine, Tony," she said, even though she knew it was sort of a lie, and she knew that he knew, as well. But he didn't press the issue.

They sat together for a few moments in time, Ziva relaxing in his embrace, leaning into him and letting him stroke her hair. She had to admit, it felt good to know that someone cared, and even better to know that it was Tony who cared so much.

"Thanks, Tony," she said, and they sat in silence a few minutes longer. He hadn't known this side of Ziva before, but it was a side that few had ever seen. She was not a vulnerable person, if anything, she had the thickest skin of everyone on the team. She'd changed, he realized, but in a good way.

"It's not all bad," he spoke, breaking the silence in a low voice.

"Oh?"

"Every time I think of my father, I realize that I will never be able to be that kind of dad. The kind that expects too much and cuts you out when you don't meet up." She pulled away from his embrace to turn and look him in the eyes.

"Tony DiNozzo," she spoke his name with extra emphasis, "has actually considered being a father?" she laughed, unable to believe what she'd just heard.

"Don't tell anyone," he said, smiling, and she smiled back. Did she detect some kind of hint in his eyes and his words? Or was it just her imagination?

"You gonna be okay?" he asked.

"Yes." She looked into his eyes. She saw pain hidden behind concern and ... Caring? Love? "But only if you tell me more about these imaginary DiNozzo children," she asked slyly.

"Well, they are _all_ incredibly good looking and intelligent, naturally," he said, flashing Ziva a huge grin. She rolled her eyes, but he could tell there was a glimmer of a smile behind it.

"And what else?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" he said quickly and quietly, feeling suddenly like he was being interrogated.

"I'm just fascinated, Tony. This is the first time you've ever hinted that you might some day want to be a father. Growing up, are we?"

"I guess I was never ready to admit it," he shrugged.

"Until now?"

"Until now," was the response. They stared each other down for a minute, until she broke their gaze, shaking her head.

"Maybe I was wrong about you," she started.

"And how is that, Ziva?"

"I said you'd never get it. I'm starting to think that maybe you actually _have_ gotten it."

"You _get_ a lot of things when you think someone you love is dead," he said, without even realizing at first what he'd said. Ziva caught it, though, and he saw the recognition flash in her eyes, and then it hit him.

"Yes," she mused quietly, pausing to be sure to choose her words carefully, "like when that car exploded and I thought you were in it."

Time stopped. It was a roundabout way of saying it, but it was said. It was out there. And there would be no turning back.

"Ziva," he whispered, and she looked up at him as he drew her face to his, softly touching his lips to hers. She responded just as gently, parting her lips ever so slightly and leaning into the kiss.

He did not deepen it, however, but pulled back instead, touching his forehead to hers. He looked into her eyes. "Let's get out of here and get some sleep," he suggested. It was after three in the morning.

They gathered their things and got up, heading toward the elevator. He reached over and took her hand in his own, and she looked down at it, and then at him, and smiled.

"Let's," was the response.

**Author's Notes:** This just came to me out of nowhere, but also as a self-reflection piece. My mother cut all ties with me nearly two years ago, and writing about parents who can just toss their kids away was oddly cathartic. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	2. Chapter 2: Forgiven Somewhat

**Should have done this a while ago, but I only recently got the motivation to revisit this. This is set probably a day or so after Tony's father comes and goes. Just another discussion about fathers between our favorite two agents. I never really intended to continue this story, but it felt unfinished after the events of Flesh and Blood. And also, some of the details of the previous chapter were revealed to have been _not quite accurate _after that episode aired, so this chapter will address that. Somewhat.**

**Also, for the sake of keeping this as close to canon as possible, there is no relationship or major change after the events of the first chapter. It was just something that happened one night and was left behind and temporarily forgotten.**

**Okay, that should cover it.**

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The crime scene that evening had been a bit of a longer commute than most, but neither Tony nor Ziva minded the drive as they sat quietly beside each other as they headed home in the darkness of the cool January night.

"I thought you said your father had disowned you," Ziva said after nearly twenty minutes of silence, finally daring to ask the questions about his father's recent visit that had been plaguing her thoughts.

"He had. You heard the voicemail," was the response, along with a shrug of the shoulders, as if to shake off the questions.

Ziva pressed on. "Then what happened?" Tony groaned inwardly, knowing that she wouldn't stop pushing until she got what she wanted out of him. He thought for a second, contemplating the best way to proceed with the conversation.

"Remember that night, Ziva? When we talked about our fathers and all the mistakes they'd made?"

"Well of course I do," she started. "That was the night you played that voicemail for me." _And the night you ... _She did not let her mind finish the sentence, but a she felt a slight rush of embarrassment, and thanked the powers above that it was night time.

"Yeah. Well, shortly after that night, I decided I should get in touch with my dad. Maybe time had cooled off the anger and he'd be willing to speak with me. So I called him, kind of put some feelers out. Let him know what I was doing. You know," he stopped, unsure of what else to say.

"So this explains how he knew of me," she surmised, referring to the fact that Anthony DiNozzo Sr. had brought up the fact that he'd heard of her previously when they'd met a few days ago.

"Yeah..." he trailed off. He didn't really know what to say. It had been pretty embarrassing the way his father had just declared that she'd been mentioned.

"What did you tell him about me?" A slight smile played on her lips and Tony could see that she was actually ... _pleased _... that he'd spoken of her.

"Just ..." he paused, shrugging his shoulders. "Work stuff. You know. Small talk."

"You are lying."

_I can't hide anything from this woman._

"So I am." He paused again, searching his thoughts once more for the right thing to say. "I may have mentioned an interest in a particularly sexy and complex woman. Who'd also 'lost' her father. I kind of used you as an excuse to call him. Kinda like, 'Hey dad, seeing this happen all over again made me think a little.' You know?" She nodded.

"And?"

"And he picked up on more. I guess even over the phone people can tell by the way I talk about you," he smiled sheepishly, glancing at his partner in the passenger seat. She didn't ask him what he meant.

She knew.

They rode in comfortable silence for a few moments then, sharing quiet acceptance of the changes taking place between them, even though neither had said as much over the past several months. They'd just kind of slipped into it over time: a smile here, a lingering touch there. They'd kissed only once, and alluded to deeper feelings on one occasion, but neither felt compelled to push the issue, rather, they were both content to let whatever was going to happen just take place on its own. Ziva smiled inwardly, pleased that she'd been important enough to Tony that he'd mentioned her to his estranged father. She broke the silence for the second time that night.

"I have not spoken to my father since that night," she said, taking her turn to share.

"I wouldn't imagine that you had," he responded, glancing at her for a moment. Her expression was solemn, but he could tell that there was a faint light in her eyes. Even through the pain of her father's betrayal, she'd still been able to find something to shine a light in her life. He briefly hoped that the light was his own doing.

"It's okay to let it hurt, you know. I won't think any less of you," he spoke again, quietly, after several moments of quiet contemplation.

She turned to him and smiled, a big genuine smile that pretty much turned his insides to mush whenever he saw it. "I know that, Tony. I guess I am just still not completely ready to talk about it. I'd rather hear about your father some more."

"Like what?" he asked lightly.

"Like what other things you told him about me," she said. Ziva would not admit it to him, at least not yet, but she enjoyed hearing things about herself from the point of view of her partner. He had this way of talking about her that made her feel ... _special. _

"What makes you think I told him a lot of things about you?" Tony asked innocently, grinning confidently as she looked at him cynically, a look he knew well. The look that clearly said, _I am not buying a damn thing you are selling, Tony._

He wasn't sure at this point which he liked more: her beautiful smile, or her 'I smell bullshit!' look.

"He said that you'd mentioned I was beautiful," she goaded, intentionally pushing his buttons and knowing damn well that he would not - _could not - _lie to her.

Tony let out a surprised cough, and turned his head to look at her, astonished. She was watching him calmly and expectantly, waiting for his answer. "I may have," he choked out. "I don't know if I said _beautiful_ exactly. Maybe _he_ just said that. You know. DiNozzo charm."

"Would your father lie to flatter a young woman?"

"Actually, yes," was the response, and they both burst out laughing.

"I guess in that way you are both alike then," she started, "lying to charm a woman. Telling her she is beautiful. Making her feel special."

"I was _not _lying when I told him you were beautiful!" he blurted out. _Shit! How many times has she done that to me? _

"Ha!" She retorted. "For such a good investigator, Tony, you should have seen that set up coming a mile away."

"Yeah, I guess I should have," he said, glancing at her and grinning sheepishly. "But you already knew it. You didn't have to go and make me say it."

"I suppose not," she agreed. Again, though, she was glad to hear him say it. She really felt beautiful when Tony told her she was; when he smiled at her like that, and she liked that feeling.

"I forgive him." Tony broke the silence this time. "Sort of." Ziva didn't respond. Instead, she waited quietly, knowing that he would continue on his own. It was only a minute before he spoke again.

"Because he was trying to make it right, you know? Maybe it's old age, or maybe it's time, like I said. But now it's like he's almost trying to be a part of my life. Catch up. Maybe he wants to have some grandkids or something, be a part of their lives. Maybe he's just tired of missing out. But he's trying. And I can't hold a twelve year grudge against him anymore. You know?"

"Yes."

"And I kind of want him to, too. There's a lot I've done that he's missed. Some good, some not quite so good. But there's still plenty I haven't done that he could be there for. And I'm willing to give him another chance. To not screw up."

"To just be there," Ziva supplied. They slowed to a stop at a red light, and Tony took that moment to look at her.

"Yeah. To just be there," he confirmed. "It won't change the past, but maybe he could be a better grandfather than he was a father."

"There you go again, with those imaginary DiNozzo children," Ziva teased. He chuckled inwardly.

"It's just something that thinking about my dad does to me. Makes me want to be better than him," he explained.

"I suppose this is where I am expected to say something like, 'You already _are,_' but I do not know your father well enough to be able to say such a thing. And that would not be fair." She paused then added, shaking her head, "I am not good at this."

He chuckled. Her inability to speak endearingly was actually quite endearing. "It's fine. I know what you're trying to say." The light turned to green and he accelerated, once again placing his attention on the road. He could still see Ziva's relieved smile out of the corner of his eye, though.

"I am glad that you and your father are making out," she said, reaching over and taking his hand in hers and stroking it comfortingly with her thumb.

"Making _up_. Making _out _would just be wrong. And very disturbing." He preceded to explain to her the difference between the two terms, and as he finished, they were both laughing heartily at her very unfortunate English mistake. The laughter died down and they cruised in silence, and it wasn't until Tony pulled his car beside Ziva's apartment that they realized they were still holding hands.

"Oh," Ziva said simply as she looked down at the connection, but still did not pull her hand away. She lifted her eyes to meet Tony's, and he was looking at her apprehensively, almost nervously. She smiled slightly. Just that slight smile was enough reassurance for Tony, and he leaned over and placed his lips on hers, not unlike the first time they had kissed several months ago.

They did not part so quickly this time, though, and Ziva reached her free hand around the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, allowing herself the indulgence of playing with his tongue. Their embrace began to intensify and Tony allowed himself to pull her even closer to him, when Ziva started giggling into his mouth, at which point he had no choice but to pull his mouth from hers, disappointed.

"What?" he asked, confused. "Am I bad at kissing?"

"No, no, not at all, Tony," she struggled to spit out between fits of laughter. "I just can not stop thinking about the fact that I said that _this-_" she indicated with a flourish of her hand, "was what you and your father were doing!" And with that, she started laughing all over again.

He sat back in his chair. "Well, you sure do know how to kill a mood, thank you very much," he said jokingly. "Now that I've got that image in my mind, I don't think you'll ever have to worry about me wanting to come upstairs." He hadn't meant to say it like that, though he was planning to offer such a thing, but he seemed to be having more and more trouble keeping himself from saying things without thinking first. Ziva still had a smile on her face, but her fit of laughter had at least subsided.

"Well, Tony, if you think you can banish that image from your mind," she started, speaking seductively, "You certainly are welcome to come up." He couldn't help but notice how his body responded to the way she lowered her voice at him. _If she keeps speaking to me like that, _he thought, _I'll probably forget my father even exists. _

"I think I can manage," he said, grinning, and pulled her back to him for a quick kiss before turning off the car and taking her to her apartment.

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**That should do it. I really didn't want to take so long to update this story, but the creative mind was on vacation or something. Probably went somewhere warmer. I have no plans to add anything else to this, though I'm sure someone will inevitably request that I write what happens when they go upstairs. I've already got a backlog of "M" stuff to write as it is, so sorry. Use your imagination on this one. **

**Also, I'm so very sorry about the cliché 'English screw up.' I accidentally typed **_**making out **_**instead of **_**making up **_**and it fit so I left it alone. I do try not to use stuff like that too much.**

**For those who may care, my mother and I have been talking some since the first chapter was written. There isn't forgiveness - not yet - but we are at least talking. It seems that DiNozzo and I have something in common.  
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**Reviews are always appreciated. **


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